Evolution of Pain
by x-cagegrrl-x
Summary: Randy reflects on the reality of his part in this historic group. Slash, rape, abuse.
1. Chapter 1

Why do you torture me like this?

How can you take pleasure from these awful things that you do, and smile as you watch me cry.

When did you start hating me enough to tear me to shreds and laugh everytime you hear a crunch.

Those first few moments were magic to me. I dream of your tender caress and the way you whispered sweet nothings into my ear, kissing gently down my neck and gently me in your strong arms. When I knew who you were and believed it was the truth. If they were magic to me, what were they to you? And why don't they matter anymore?

I lie here on the floor, surrounded by my own blood and your cum. Wondering how we got to this. I remember those night's, curled together in nothing but love. When the only tears that fell from my eyes where of joy and content.

Now they are falling again. And my beatened body is naked on the concrete floor of another new locker room. I'm shivering in the cold, shaking with the familiar pain shooting up and down my back and legs, making the blood slowing dripping away down there not matter to me anymore. It's not my blood now, it's your's. You claimed everything that was mine a long time ago, and I gave it all to you without a thought.

Now they are all I have, my thought's. My thought's of what we are, what we were and why we are still this way. I think of new excuses to give the boss, I think of how much I am still hurting, mentally checking the damage. You went easy on me tonight, two broken ribs, dislocated shoulder and a few brusies shaped like your fists and boots. You must have been in a good mood.

I sigh with relief when the door slams shut. The vibrations pounding through my head like your fists did moments ago. But it is sweet pain to me, it is nothing but a hangover to the life I live in now. It's not mine, it's yours. I am not me, I am your toy. I am your punching bag. I am your submissive pet that keeps you entertained and brings you money from the other horny guys that roam around the back as if they own the place.

That used to be us. That used to be you whispering in my ear. They used to be your arms gently wrapped around my shaking, bloodied form, lifting me slowly off the floor. That used to be your chest my head was cradled against. That used to be you wiping away my tears and gently washing off the blood from a match with a warm clothes and soothing hands.

But it is not you. And this blood is not from a match. It is not your chest or your hands or your whispers or your arms. It's not you that is cleaning my burning wounds. It is your that put them there. And it is you that forced me to lie on the floor and it is you that broke my bones and it is you that marred my flesh and it is you that rips me open as you rape me each night.

It is you I am afraid of. It is you that yells at me when I do something wrong, or if you do something wrong. It is me that pays the price when something does not go the way you want or you lose a match or even worse a title.

It is him that is healing my wounds. The one you call mentor and friend. But doesn't judge you, he doesn't hate you. He hate's me. He is covering your tracks, washing away the evidence so no one can wander in and find it. He is tidying up your mess. And I hear myself whimper as his arms remove them selves from around my tired broken body, and I am roughly shoved away, now clean. I gasp as my clothes are thrown hard at me and he spits at me to get dressed and get out. Nothing but a worthless slut. A whore. That's what he mumbles under his breath as he stormes down the corridors to his next meeting with Vince.

I can hear his footsteps fade away and I know I am alone. For now. I get dressed, noticing I was given no underwear. I can see what is left of it lying in a tattered heap in the corner. I cannot help it as I break down against the wall and let the tears roll down my cheeks. It hurts even more as my convulsing sobs make my body spasm. I can't do anything to make the visions stop. I close my eyes and it replays in front of me, I open them and i can see the spot where you took what you wanted and left me for dead. The door opens again. And I am faced with my future for the next few hours. He's grinning, ear to ear. I know that grin. You taught him that grin. I know what intentions hide behind that sinister smile, and I wimper again as he grabs me by the hair and forces me to lie on the cold stone floor.

When did you start hating me enough to hurt me like this? When did I become your property to do with as you please and pass around like sweets? And why do I still crawl through my own blood to curl up to the side of your bed each night, listening to you breath as the black circles row bigger from my lack of peace?

You remain true to your name, Hunter, as I, the Legend Killer, am the one dieing inside.


	2. Chapter 2

I can feel the cold drench me. It's not the air, I know this for a fact. Another thing I know is that even thought I curl into my protective shell, it is the healer and not the hunter that is here with me.

I shake, feeling the emptiness consume me evenmore. This lack of hope is exhausting on my beaten body, crumbling and searing under the damp cloth rubbing harshly against my tattered skin. I wake a little more, I cannot feel my hand. I try moving it...ah there it is, the searing pain lets me know it's still attached.

"Pathetic" he mumbles. I can only agree. I'm scared of he who heals me and he who hurts me is gone away again. I look dizzily around the room. We are alone.

I shiver again as the water freezes my body shut. If I were not too afraid of the consquences, I would tell him not to bother. 'Do not be bad. Do not be bad' I drive myself into unconscious on this thought. It races through my head day after day as I plead with myself not to do anything deserving of punishment. This is what you have done to me, my love. I am nothing.

Awoken again by a new cold, this is completely different from the freezing of the ice that soothed my burning flesh, this is the reason it burned. I hear you moving around me, dragging the cold metal of the blade. It's poetic to me. A sweet reminder of the nimble way your fingers trailed and caressed my bare skin with love and comfort. You frown as I lean into the touch of the blade, even as it pierces my flesh.

This is not right, is it? Only you can inflict the pain on me. Only you can scar and manglemy body until I crawl and cry at your feet. I would be down there now, if not for these chains holding me in place against the wall of your basement dungeon. A prison cell you built especially for me. I watch you unhook the chains and throw me from the wall. A sickening crack and fierce pain rush through me before I can even breathe again as my body snaps against the stone wall. You pick me up by my fractured wrist, twisting it in your grasp as you drink in my cries and screams.

I beg you to let me go. Anything to let me go. A rareity is when you do, but instead you fling me into the small cage in the corner. It's in the shadows, not tall enough for me to stand nor long enough for me to stretch my limbs. I curl up into a ball, shaking and sobbing as I hear your stomping footsteps climb the stairs. So loud and painful to my sensitive ears.

I cry and watch the spiders play amongst the shadows. Thinking back to when you first brought me down here. I was so scared and you loved it. The whips, the chains, the dildos and the blood, my blood. The stench of it still hurts my nostrils but without it I feel uneasy. It has become a constant in my life and this makes me cry even more.

Another set of footsteps follow yours down the stairs. "He's all yours." You tell him as you hand him the keys and leave him to his work. I don't want to look up, I know who he is without a glance. Your animal is back and again you unleash him on me.

I cry, shakily whisper "please" to my new captor. A laugh. Sinister. Cold. Malicious.

It reminds me of yours. He is your protege now? Is it he who you now curl up with in the night. When it used to be me wrapped protectively in your strong arms and nuzzled into your chest. Where your last drifting words were promises of never ending protection.

But who will protect me from you?


	3. Chapter 3

I know they are watching me. They think they are discrete but I know they are.

They are your friends, aren't they love? You best friend glances at me down the row as his arm is flung over your shoulder in careless and happy laughter. Oh how I long for the memories of us like that to return to my lonely mind.

I will sit here in my little bubble of fear, waiting for your commanding glare that I await excitedly. It's almost pathetic how even the look of hatered and disgust on your face when you glare at me, makes me almost happy just for the sake that you are looking at me. I long for the simpilist of acknowledgments from you that show me you have not completely disregarded me as a factor in your life. You still know I'm here.

There it is, the glare I longed for for hours. I rise from my seat, ignoring the few eyes sweeping their glances my way as I walk past you...and freeze. That movement, no please no. He stands also and stretches his arms, shooting you an equally sinister grin that is plastered across your full lips, hidden in your friendly fun.

I shake. Please stop him, someone, anyone. Please my love, do not allow him to follow me again. But you do not stop him, nor does anyone else as he announces his leave with a yawn and a smile. My body is suddenly very heavy and I know the reason.

What is left of my mind is informing what is left of my body what is happening, and the wounds you both infilicted upon me yesterday burn and sting in protest. My eyes water and silent tears slip down my cheeks, but, you rise too. I breath deeply, shaking slightly and now at the door. You are following us out, I do not understand. I walk to our room and he follows, but so do you. I drop my head and open the door feeling a fist crash into my back and shove me to the floor that my head bounces off.

My torn body is racked with sobs as he grabs me and the door slams shut, loud enough that it hurts my rattled brain. He thorws me across the room, follows my flying body which he lifts to shred the clothes between him and what he wants. I see you sit on the chair beside this horror scene that has become of my life. I reach my shaking hand to you, trying desperately with what ever little strength my muscles have left to crawl over to you, but again he drags me away.

I do not understand, but now, as I hear his zip, I do. I watch you watching him as he thrust had and fast into my lifeless body. You will not meet my eyes, what is happening. It is not a nightmare because the pain is to real as he thrusts with every of my screams and cries. I hear him laughing, imagining the grin that resembles the one on your face. But why are you grinning?

I look at you unmoving, your eyes meet mine and i whisper, "Please. Stop him" You laugh. It's cold hearted and nasty and it scares me. I cry harder. You are watching him rape me, and you like it. I see you touching yourself, getting yourself off as he relentlessly pounds into me, using my blood as lube, the scent piercing my nostrils makes memories rush back of the week's torture in your little dungeon.

You have never watched him do this before. You always leave unless it is your actions that are makeing me bleed and sob. I can't even blink as my eyeballs sting, watching you for as long as you both take.

But, my love, do you know what about this evening pains me the most? I watch you kiss his cheek and wrap your arms around him gently as you lay together in bed, satisfied and gazing lovingly to each other as you kiss goodnight and fall asleep within each others arms.

I don't know what I feel about this anymore, as my mind clears to black, but my gaze remains fixed on you both.

You have gotten what you wanted now love. I am broken.


End file.
